Faded Scars, Strong Memories

While the scars have faded away, the memories are still there. I bury them deep yet there are those rare occasions that they sneak up and take over. They're like a tidal wave, knocking me under. Forcing me to remember those dark days. The days spent by the window, tears streaming down my face like the rain on the window. Those were the days that the only thoughts were how to get away. How to move passed the lonely nights and the masked days. Those were the days that I ached for something better, some shred of true happiness. And those were the days where I ached for someone to see, for someone to know, and for someone to say something. For someone to take me in their arms and tell me that it would all be okay because they were there. Not to turn a cold shoulder and act like everything was okay. And not to be blind to the aching that I held right in front of them. The scars could have been so easy for them to see. They could have so easily noticed and said something. Yet, they never did. And still to this day, I ask, was I that good at hiding or were they that good at ignoring?